It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do."
aw come on, man. why would you want to be me? you’re already like, the best most qualified person on the PLANET when it comes to being you.
we all get numb, and sad, and unmotivated, and weighed down by this weird and overwhelming existentialism. that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. if you want to write then write, and if you want to play a sport then play it. have fun, do it because you love doing it. over time, if you’re dedicated enough, you’ll get better at it. right now you’re focusing too much on comparing yourself to other people and that’s part of the reason you’re unsatisfied.
one of the most amazing things about life is that each and every one of us is experiencing it both collectively and as individuals. you’re always going to be the main character in your own story, don’t trick yourself into thinking you’re just a stand-in in someone elses.
i’m glad you think i’m a talented writer, or that you like my art at all, but please keep in mind that i’ve been doing this shit since high school and it came with countless hours of frustration and unsatisfaction. nobody wakes up good at something. having a knack for something is often nothing more than loving it enough to keep trying after others throw in the towel. if you don’t love writing enough to do that then try your hand at something else. there’s an endless amount of ways to express yourself.
In which Jaime required coffee in order to sit through the wedding vows. [x]
oh my god
Y’know people say shit about social media along the lines of ‘OMG no one cares what anyone had for breakfast’ and like.
I do? I care. I’m pretty sure a lot of people care. I want to hear that the people I care about are having delicious breakfasts or saw something odd at work or flirted with a cute barista. Or just any little thoughts they have that they feel are worth sharing.
I’ve always kind of assumed that’s how you’re supposed to feel about your friends.
“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”—Gabriel García Márquez
Rest In Peace (March 6, 1927—April 17, 2014)
Sighisoara, Romania (by Ioana_Lungu)
Be kind to yourself. Stop telling yourself that whatever you are struggling with “should” be easy. If something is hard for you, it is hard for you. There are probably Reasons, though those may just be how you are wired. Acknowledge these things. When you finish something hard, be proud! Celebrate a little.
And really, just stop saying “should” to yourself about your thoughts and feelings in any context. You feel how you feel. The things in your head are the things in your head. You can’t change either directly through sheer force of will. You can only change what you do. Stop beating yourself up for who and what you are right now–it isn’t productive. Focus on moving forward."
i hope all those assholes who knew about the red wedding and filmed their friends watching it have the good sense to do the same for the purple wedding